


a crack in the mask

by a_solitary_marshmallow



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, go check it out, no beta we die like men, not yet anyway, teacupfulofbrains is literally amazing i owe her my life, there is comfort in the original
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24733573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_solitary_marshmallow/pseuds/a_solitary_marshmallow
Summary: Virgil needs a break
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	a crack in the mask

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teacupfulofbrains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupfulofbrains/gifts).
  * Inspired by [the crossroad of our destinies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21928852) by [teacupfulofbrains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupfulofbrains/pseuds/teacupfulofbrains). 



> So, this was inspired by the amazing teacupfulofbrains and her wonderful atla AU!!! I love Sanders Sides and Avatar, and this is my new favourite thing ever, go check it out!
> 
> Anyway, after binging the entire thing for a third time in one week, I got inspired to write this scene! Hope you like it :)
> 
> (Set within chapter 4 of The Crossroad of our Destinies)

Virgil hadn’t been raised by benders.

In his tribe, he was alone in that aspect – precious, rare, but also different. He’d had to learn early, to train alone, teach himself how to master his bending. That hadn’t made him exempt from the other lessons the water tribe taught their children.

How to sew. How to fight. How to fish and sail and repair a boat when necessary. And how to be strong.

Since leaving on this big adventure with the Avatar and his friends, Virgil was learning all kinds of new ways to be strong. Patton was strong in standing up for his beliefs without violence, and letting his emotions show. Logan was strong in his loyalty to his brother. Roman was strong in his disloyalty to his father, in choosing where he truly belonged and choosing to fight against what he had known his whole life.

In the water tribe, the way to be strong was to be as impassive as the ice under your feet. Cool, calm, collected, even in the face of fear and danger. It was how the men of the water tribe were supposed to act when conflict struck. Of course, now Virgil knew that that approach wasn’t the best for every situation; that bottling up your feelings could lead to an explosion and make everything worse.

But some habits were hard to shake.

Which was why when Roman shot glares at him from across the campfire, Virgil looked back coolly. Why he kept up his icy façade and turned away and spoke dryly, as if Roman’s avoidance and suspicion were merely an annoyance, rather than a painful twist of the knife. Why he sighed and explained things calmly and walked away from situations instead of escalating them.

Of course, Virgil knew that the cool mask could only last so long. Which was why in the dead of night, with the fire burnt down to coals and the steady snores of his companions rising around him, Virgil rose from his sleeping bag and made his way through the woods, weaving out of the little clearing they’d set up camp in. Remy twitched when he stepped on a twig. Virgil froze and after a moment the bison settled down again. Virgil let out a breath.

There was no moon tonight, the thin crescent slit hidden behind thick swathes of clouds that hung over the world like a grey blanket. They cast the world into a haze of shadow and more often than not Virgil had to feel his way through the trees, following the low gurgle of water from the brook he knew was nearby. He could tell when he reached it, less from seeing and from feeling the ground under his feet change from root-crossed soil to pebble-strewn grass. Virgil dropped to his knees and buried his hands in the water – it was bitingly cold. It made his fingers tingle and spark with pins and needles. It felt almost like home.

Here, in the quiet and the dark, with only the water for company, Virgil let himself cry. His shoulders hunched and despite his efforts to hush them, soft hiccups and sobs rose into the air, muted by the clouds and the trees all around. Misery filled him and spilled down his cheeks in hot trails.

It was only fitting that a water bender express agony with water. The droplets slipping down his face dripped from his chin but never reached the water. By their own decision they collected together and hovered in the air in a swirling, wriggling ball of pain that was not unlike the squirming of Virgil’s stomach.

He didn’t know how long he cried for – not even the moon was out to guide him tonight. But eventually he ran out of tears to cry, or at least ran out of energy to cry them; the collection of salty droplets splashed down into the brook and he pulled in a long, shuddering breath.

So they didn’t think of him as family anymore. So Logan was scared of him and Roman shot him glares and Patton said in his innocent way, “Even if he _did_ try, I’m too fast for him!” So they were only keeping Virgil around so he could get them into the Northern Water Tribe and everyone knew it. So what? It made no difference. Virgil could do his part to help the avatar, and then Thomas and his friends would leave and go save the world or some shit. Virgil didn’t have to be with them. If anything, this was good – he wouldn’t have to hide his water bending anymore. It didn’t hurt that much.

( _His heart told him he was lying. Virgil told it to shut up_ )

Virgil sat up and splashed his face with icy water to cool his flushed cheeks. The cold stung his face. He winced and rubbed his cheeks only to find that water had frozen on it in droplets. Stupid bending, always acting out and being dramatic. He thawed it with a quick gesture and shook his head, letting the droplets fall away.

His hair usually hid his eyes, more so now that Thomas wouldn’t meet his gaze, so he didn’t have to worry about his eyes being puffy the next day. The blotchy face he could hide pretty well. But he would have to disguise his tiredness – if Roman knew that Virgil had been moving around at night he would be furious, maybe even take to not sleeping in order to ‘guard’ the others. And if Roman was tired, he would be off his game, and they would be more vulnerable to being captured, and if the Avatar was captured they were all screwed.

A _crunch_ snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts and he whirled, hands flashing to his knives. The forest before him was dark and deep and full of shadows so thick he couldn’t see past the first few trees. Was there someone there? A scout? A fire nation soldier? Thieves? His breathing increased as the possibilities flashed through his mind, faster and faster. He had to get to the others, he had to protect them and make sure they were safe and-

A turtleduck waddled out into the open.

Virgil sagged in relief. Not dangerous then. He crouched down to watch the toddling creature slip into the brook and begin gliding with the flow of the water, followed by a v formation of clear ripples. Safe. Virgil took a few moments to lower his head and take deep breaths, trying to calm the frantic race of his heartbeat. When it had finally calmed down he rose and started making his way back through the trees.

Was it just him, or was it even quieter on the way back? The tinny chirp of insects had died away as if the creatures had been startled quiet by a bigger, or clumsier, presence. Virgil slipped a knife into his palm as he walked. It was too quiet. The burbling of the brook seemed obtrusively loud in the deafening silence.

A presence behind him.

Virgil whirled and brought his knife to the person’s throat.

The guy froze, and Virgil recognised him with a flash of clarity – he stuffed his knife back into its sheath and hissed, “ _What the hell, Princey?_ Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“I was about to ask you the same question.” Roman, having recovered quickly, growled. His hair was mussed up with sleep in a way the fire prince would never allow to see the light of day. “What are you doing?”

“Getting water.” Virgil said sharply, trying to hide the panic running through his mind. To an already paranoid guy, this must look very suspicious. “Is that a crime now?”

“It is when you sneak off in the middle of the night doing who-knows-what.” Roman retorted. Virgil tried to slam down his icy composure but the cold and the crying and the exhaustion wouldn’t be squashed down anymore – his already-red eyes prickled and he folded his arms and looked away to hide the new tears welling up.

“Sure, super scary. ‘Oh no, the big bad bending-stealer is staying hydrated! What else could he be capable of, maintaining basic hygiene?’ Shit, you’re right Princey, this kind of behaviour is unacceptable.”

He felt, more than saw, Roman swelling up with indignation. To be precise, he felt the heat waves radiating off the red-faced prince. Roman wouldn’t actually… burn him, right? The fire bender was hotheaded and currently hated Virgil’s guts, but surely he wouldn’t attack him. Even if he did, Patton and… well, at least Thomas would stand up for Virgil. Maybe? Unless he was angry at Virgil for upsetting his brother…

“How dare you mock me when I’m protecting my family!”

Virgil shook his head. “You know what? I’m out.” He stepped towards camp but Roman caught his wrist in a solid grip. Virgil jerked back with a hiss, unable to hide his flinch when Roman met his eyes. But Roman didn’t look as furious as he did a second ago. He was frowning, but he looked confused. Too late, Virgil realized his swollen red face was on display.

“Are you _crying_?”

“Shut up!” Virgil yanked him arm away, and Roman didn’t fight it as hard as he could. Of course he didn’t want to touch the big scary bending-stealer for longer than he had to. Virgil wiped his eyes fiercely and glared at the staring prince. “What the fuck are you looking at?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s _wrong_ with me? Let’s find out, shall we?” Virgil’s voice was rising in pitch, but he couldn’t bring it down. He didn’t _want_ to bring it down. He buried his hands in his hair and pulled to feel something other than the boiling soup of misery and rage in his chest. “What’s wrong with me is that apparently I’m the fucking _villain_ of this story! What’s _wrong with me_ is that I’m so _dangerous_ I can’t be trusted with the people whose _lives I saved,_ because I’m so _scary_.”

Roman clenched his fists, but Virgil was not done. He stabbed a finger at Roman’s face and the fire prince had the nerve to _flinch_.

“I’m a threat to your new family?” Virgil’s voice dripped with cynicism. “Well, boo fucking hoo. You’re not the only one who lost your parents, Princey. At least you have a brother, and an uncle, and a partner, and _friends_ , and I have-”

Virgil’s voice dissolved into a whisper. He wanted to keep shouting – his chest burned and he could _finally_ yell and rage like he had been aching to for weeks, but… now there was only sorrow. It made him feel heavy. There was a weight on his back and Virgil’s shoulders curled in under its weight.

“Well, I thought I had a family.” He smiled bitterly at Roman. “I guess I don’t count. I wish you’d told me earlier how much everyone despised me. At least then it wouldn’t hurt so much.” Virgil laughed. “And here I thought you guys liked me.”

And now, now Roman looked uncomfortable. “Well, Patton-”

“Doesn’t stand up for me. Sits there and _watches_. And Thomas. And Logan. They don’t _like_ me. I’m only still around because I’m _useful._ Because I was stupid enough to think I was wanted. Because stupid Virgil, scary Virgil, thought he was a part of the family, thought he was _safe_ , WHAT AN IDIOT!” He was screaming now. He yanked at his hair so violently that he could hear a ripping sound, but the pain was good, it kept him grounded, kept his voice from dissolving. “JUST STUPID FUCKING VIRGIL!”

“Hey!” Roman was grabbing his wrists. “Stop it, you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

“WHY THE FUCK DO YOU CARE?”

Too much, too much, he was saying too much. He struggled to slam down a lid on his bubbling emotions. Roman’s fingers dug into his wrists, trying to pry them out of his hair. Broken strands tangled around Virgil’s fingers. Broken, snapped. He could barely feel the pain. Roman finally succeeded in wrenching Virgil’s hands away.

Stupid, stupid. Virgil snatched his hands from Roman’s grip and shoved them into his pockets, pointedly avoiding Roman’s wild gaze. He threw up his impassive wall hastily – though was there really much of a point anymore? Roman started to speak but Virgil cut over him, voice scratchy from screaming.

“I’m going to bed.”

Roman didn’t stop him from stalking back to the campsite and burying himself in his sleeping bag. Virgil couldn’t sleep that night – at times he drifted in and out of a restless doze, only to snap awake with a jolt from half-formed nightmares he couldn’t quite remember. Several times the next morning Roman looked to be on the verge of speaking, only to stop at the last second. Virgil was too tired and done to question him. He just wanted this day to be over so he could go to sleep and forget that this ever happened.

Of course, that was when Ruon-Jian decided to show up with his fleet, and things got a heck of a lot more complicated.


End file.
